


The Sleeping Beauty

by tuliptoes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, but seriously it's mostly a dream, life is but a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuliptoes/pseuds/tuliptoes
Summary: A Sleeping Beauty inspired fic.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65
Collections: Once Upon a Game of Ice and Fire: Sleeping Beauty





	The Sleeping Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea of a short fic inspired by Sleeping Beauty; but then I thought, hey, what if we take that idea and shake things up.
> 
> So, here it is.

_“You need to wake up,” the voice whispered. “You have to wake up.”_

Yes, he thought as he looked at the woman lying in repose in front of him. You have to wake up.

He looked down at his hands, there was blood on them, the small cuts up and down his arms were all bleeding, but he knew, they weren’t serious.

His sword, he had a sword, it had green liquid splashed around the blade, and he looked at his pants, it was there too.

It’s like blood, he thought, as he set his sword on the floor.

He stepped toward the sleeping woman, and even though it was dark outside the window, the vines obscured all of the outside world, she was bathed in a blue light from some otherworldly source.

As he got closer, he couldn’t look away, as if the light was keeping his eyes on her. She was clad in armor, a deep blue that reminded him of the sky at twilight, a comforting darkness. Her hands clasped a sword laid on her chest, like the warriors of old, but he could see her breathing, she wasn’t dead, just sleeping.

He tried to look at her face, to take her in, but his eyes couldn’t focus, they kept drifting back to her sword, a throbbing heart of red in the ocean of blue. 

_Her armor keeps her safe, the sword keeps others safe._

The words flooded into his mind, but they felt right and true. He wanted to hold a sword like that, to feel that beating heart next to his body. He reached for it, just to touch it, and when his hand brushed the metal, he felt the ripple wash over him. It filled him with warmth and light and joy, and he smiled at the sensation.

He was so happy in that moment that he did not notice the woman’s eyes open, or the shift of her hands as she pointed the sword to his throat.

“Who are you?” she said. Her voice was raw and soft, but cold too, her fury at his presence unmistakable. 

She sat up, still pointing the sword at him, and he was frightened, he could feel his heart racing, but he knew that there was no reason for this fear.

_She won’t harm me_

Another right and true thought. He backed up from her, letting her step out of her bed.

“Who are you?” she repeated, her voice growing stronger as she pushed the sword closer to his throat.

“Jaime,” he said. “My name is Jaime.”

She lowered her sword, and glared at him as she looked around the room. He looked out the window, and saw sunlight creeping in as the vines began to shrink into dust.

“I’m your prince. I came here for you.”

Her face fell at his words. She did not move or say anything, but she looked him over and sighed. 

“My prince,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

“Would that I had kept sleeping.”

Her words stung him, he sucked in a breath as she caught his eye, and he stared into her eyes, eyes of sorrow and pain, eyes that spoke of a thousand wounds that would not be healed.

He couldn’t look away, he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move. He wanted to walk toward her, to assure that he wouldn’t hurt her, he was a prince, her prince, he could never hurt one so pure, but he knew his words were just wind. He would hurt her, she would hurt him, but they would forgive each other, because that’s what love was.

_Love, already_

It felt true, but still he stayed in place, frozen in her wounded gaze. She closed her eyes, broke away from him, and he felt like something vital had been torn from him.

“I’m not that bad?” he asked with a laugh he did not feel, but she still looked so sad, so distraught at the idea of _him_.

“No,” she said, not looking at him again. “You’re not bad. Not at all.”

She smiled at him, a smile that did not reach her eyes, and still he could not see her face. Her features shifted and moved even as she stayed still. He tried to catch her eyes again, but she squared back her shoulders and walked past him.

“My parents should be waking up now,” she said softly. “The curse is lifted, they’ll want to meet you.”

He turned to follow her, ‘what curse’ on his lips, but she was already gone. 

_“Wake up,” she whispered. “I need you to wake up.”_

But she’s already awake he told himself. She was walking toward him, wearing a dress now, a shade of blue that tried and failed to match her eyes. Her steps were unsure and slow as she had to think about how to walk. 

He remembered her in her armor, striding toward him with a sword pointed at him. _Yes, that was right, this is wrong, she doesn’t belong here_.

But here they were. He looked at himself, his blood stained clothes had vanished, and he was dressed in some finery he didn’t remember buying. It was red and gold, at odds with her, but fitting, he thought, my family’s colors.

_My family…_

He tried to picture them, but he couldn’t hold onto them as she made her way toward him. He knew he had one, they existed, but he couldn’t recall them as she looked at him, that cold but sad look back in her eyes as she held her arms up.

“Our first dance,” she sighed. 

He stepped into her arms, holding her waist in one hand, feeling her hard muscles beneath his fingertips, and her sweaty palm in his hand.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

“One hundred years of sleep did not give me the grace for these steps,” she muttered. 

“You’d rather a different dance, with swords perhaps?”

He smirked at her, trying to charm, anything to cut through the sadness in her eyes, but instead of scoffing, she paled, frozen in his arms for a second before she found her place in the steps.

“Don’t mock me,” she whispered, the hurt in her voice unmistakable. “Don’t, please.”

_Will I ever say the right thing to her?_

“I just meant,” he fumbled, trying to find the words. “I saw your sword, I would love a sword like that, how could you not want to fight with a sword like that?”

She eyed him again, her face still shifting before him, but her eyes steady and guarded as she stared down at him.

“You would fight me?”

He nodded. “I’d win too.”

A tiny smile crossed her mouth before it shifted out of place. “You’d try.”

The waltz ended, and they stopped moving, but he couldn’t let her go. She didn’t try to leave, but he could knew she wanted to.

“Please,” she said, her voice losing all the mirth of a moment ago. “Let me go before they start laughing.”

“Who would laugh at us?”

“No one would laugh at _you_ ,” she said, that coldness from her bedroom back in her voice. “No one would dare to laugh at you.”

She pulled her hand from him, and she was across the floor before he could even reach out to stop her.

He raced after her, she kept running, running from him, running toward something else, he couldn’t say, but he had to catch her, he would be lost without her.

“Princess,” he cried out, he didn’t know her name, he just remembered, he didn’t know her name. 

She ran through a door, and he followed, to far away from her. He stepped through her door - 

_“Please wake up,” she cried, choking on tears he couldn’t see. “Don’t leave me here without you.”_

and she stood there, in front of him, sword raised, he could almost see her smirk.

“You wanted to best me,” she said, the challenge plain in her voice. “You can try.”

That magnificent sword glittered in the daylight, it looked like she held a flame in her hands, like she was the chosen champion of fire. He looked down at his hand, and his own sword glowed like ice, like it would freeze him solid if he held on too long.

“Who are you?” he asked her, the awe clear in his voice.

“I will be your wife,” she said. The flames lowered as the sorrow crept back into her voice. 

“But who are you now?” he asked again, desperate to know, desperate for answers.

The flames dimmed in her sword and she lowered it, holding it next to her leg, the heat not affecting her at all.

“I am a foolish girl who was cursed by a queen.”

He lowered his sword, he felt the coolness brush his clothes, but it didn’t hurt.

“Why did she curse you?”

She sighed, and sat next to a fountain nearby. “I went to her, stormed her castle to rescue a young maiden the queen had captured. The girl’s mother had charged me with returning her safely, and I found her and demanded the queen hand her over.”

She grimaced at her younger self. “The queen smiled at me, and nodded, and I left with the girl. I took her home, and her mother blessed me.”

He sat next to her then, wanting to reach for her hand, but she turned away from him. “The queen was at the gate when I returned home, and as I crossed the threshold, I felt a heaviness in my limbs that had never been there. She cursed me to sleep and dream of my failures for all time; she said that since I rescued this one maiden, a thousand more would die in her stead, and it would be my doing.”

Jaime held back his gasp at the queen’s cruelty, and held back the arms that wanted to wrap themselves around her.

“I stopped it,” he said. “You’re free now.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes watering again. He looked down and the flame on her sword was completely out now. 

“No,” she said. “I’ve always been cursed.”

He looked at her, but she didn’t say any more. He held out his hand for her, and she looked at him, confusion in her eyes.

“Can I help?”

She shook her head, but stood up then, her sword flickering back to life.

“But we can spar,” she said as she raised her sword to him.

He brought his sword up to hers; the air around their blades merged, and purple flames now surrounded both blades.

He ran his hand through the flame, but it did not burn or chill his skin. 

“It’s just right,” he said, and she nodded.

“Just right.”

_“I love you, I love you, don’t leave.”_

He turned his head, he could have sworn he felt someone’s breath on his neck. But there was no one here, just him and his wife, preparing for bed.

She pushed her shoulders back, pulling herself up to her full height as she stood in front of him.

“We’ve been married for 6 months now,” she said, her voice flat and lifeless, how could a tone hurt him so much. “It’s time we do our duty.”

She nodded her head as she started to unbutton her dress. He watched her, and it took him a few moments to realize that it was taking her so long because her hands were shaking.

He had imagined this, kissing her flesh up and down, caressing her freckles with his tongue, all of it. He felt his reaction then, already halfway there at the thought of having her, but he couldn't look away from her trembling fingers.

He walked up to her and grabbed her hands, pulling them to his lips and kissing each, softly, just enough for her to feel his touch.

“No,” he whispered, and he saw her flinch. She tried to pull his hands back from him, but he held on.

“You are not a duty,” he said, his heart bursting with both concern and lust for her. “You are my wife,” he said the words, and they sounded so right, even if he couldn’t remember the wedding. 

He stood on his tiptoes and kissed her gently on her mouth and she trembled at his touch. He stroked her cheek and she bent into his caress, but he pulled back as he felt the wetness on her face.

“Do you not know what I feel?” he asked her and she was openly weeping now.

“I love you,” he said, and he tried to pour his heart into the words, but his voice betrayed him, cracking before he could finish. 

She jumped at his words and stepped back from him. “You can’t,” she whispered. “How could you love me?”

He stood there, watching her crying in front of him, and finally, he willed his limbs forward and pulled her into his awkward embrace.

“Because you are you,” he told her. “You, who think nothing of rescuing a maiden from an evil queen, who lives with that curse, and who knows you would do it again.”

He pulled her face to his then.

“How could anyone not love you?”

“Because I’m ugly,” she said, more tears bursting through her eyes.

He tried to look at her, and again, he couldn’t see her, just those eyes that drew him in, that showed him the soul of a hero.

“I don’t see that," he told her. "I only see you.”

He kissed her again, and led her to the bed. “Rest now,” he told her, kissing her again on her forehead as he tucked her in.

She reached for his hand, and pulled him to her. She didn’t say anything, but he nodded anyway. He climbed into bed next to her, and he pulled her to him, holding her tight to his chest as she fell asleep. 

He closed his eyes.

_“Please, please, please…”_

The voice trailed off, like it was being pulled away. He opened his eyes, and felt his stomach drop.

A monstrous bear stood in front of him. He raised his arm to shield his head, and he felt the bear’s claw scrap into his skin.

He looked at his arm then, saw the blood pouring out of him. He didn’t see her though, as she dived in front of him, sword raised with a snarl on her voice.

She swung her blade back and forth, the purple flames reaching out toward the bear, forcing the beast to retreat, away from him. 

“Stay back,” she roared, her voice as fierce as weapon as her blade, full of sharp points and jagged edges. 

The beast roared back but his princess, his wife, did not flinch. The bear swung at her, but she countered with her sword, cutting and burning the bear’s paw. It roared again, but it knew now that they would not make for an easy meal. With one last menacing look, it turned and fled.

She stood guard and listened until its footsteps could no longer be heard. Jaime looked at his arm, still bleeding, and he collapsed on the ground, the rush of battle leaving him.

She turned back to him, and he expected to see a soft look on her face, a look of concern and sympathy. Instead, he saw her red-faced and glaring at him.

“Why would do you such a foolish thing?”

She stabbed her sword into the ground and headed toward their packs as the flames died. She roughly opened hers, rummaging through it while she made no attempt to hide her angry mutterings.

“Idiot, fucking idiot I married. What moron jumps in front of a bear without a weapon.”

She grabbed some cloth and water and sat down next to him. She took his arm, gently, at such odds with the harsh tones in her voice.

“I told you to keep your sword near you, I told you this part of the island can be dangerous.”

The water felt cool on his skin, and her hands were surprisingly delicate as she wrapped up his arm.

“And you threw yourself in front of me, when I had the sword. Idiot.” 

She huffed at her last words as she finished bandaging his arm. He looked up at her, and yes, her eyes were still angry, but he could see that it was just a mask for her worry.

He reached up to her, pulled her to him as he wrapped his bloodied arm around her. She held him, clung to him as the tears started.

“Don’t do that again,” she whispered. “Please, not again.”

She looked up at him, leaned into him, and in a flash she was kissing him, and he kissed her back, his lips finally able to explore what his eyes could never see.

Her hands starting pulling at his clothes, her face flushed with heat and longing, no words about duty crossing her lips. She held him close, her eyes smiling at him, and he felt his heart swoop as she lifted his shirt over his head. 

_So this is what happiness is._

_A woman cries, he hears her sobs, he wants to help her, but she’s nowhere and everywhere, just in his head._

_“Jaime,” she whispered. “Come back to me.”_

He heard another cry then, he pushed himself off from the wall he was leaning on, and wrenched open the door. They wouldn’t keep him out any longer.

She was on the bed, the sisters cleaning her up, letting her rest. One sister approached him and handed him a bundle. He opened his arms automatically, and he saw her eyes in his arms, her sapphire soul had made its way to a new babe.

_Our babe_

He walked toward her as the child snuggled into his chest, and he felt his heart clutch at the sensation. 

He sat next to her, and she reached for the baby, and Jaime tried to hand the bundle over, but she shook her head.

“Keep her, for a little while,” she said softly as she closed her eyes. “She’s safe with you.”

She reached out to grab his leg, holding on to him as she slept, and he felt their child, their daughter, stir, putting herself to sleep as he held her. This moment, he wanted this forever, just this one second, _let me keep this one._

“Wake up Jaime,” she said. “It’s time to wake up.”

He looked at his daughter, at his wife sleeping, and _no, no, I can’t leave them_.

_No, please, let me stay…_

His eyes flew open, and he felt his heart racing in his chest. He looked at the room, he didn’t remember it, or himself, or anything but those eyes of hers.

_My princess_

He knew it was only a dream, but he felt an ache in his chest. He wanted to cry at their loss, but he could already feel them fading, vanishing like all dreams do.

He saw something move in the corner, and he saw her.

“Brienne,” he whispered, his voice sounded so raw. It hurt to speak, but he needed her to hear him.

_Brienne, my best friend, my savior, my love..._

He had not thought those words before, not really, but his heart knew the truth, knew enough to let him know in time.

She looked at him, and stood up too fast, almost tripping herself on her way to his bed. 

“You woke up,” she said. Her eyes were shining as she sat on the bed next to him. “I was so worried you -”

She couldn’t finish, she looked away from him. He sat up, it hurt so much to move, but he knew what his heart was telling him to do.

He tried to remember, the accident, yes, car coming toward them, he shoved her out of the way, and then...darkness.

“I heard you,” he said, his voice still too soft. Ignoring the pain in his ribs, he twisted himself to sit next to her.

“Jaime, be careful,” she said as his wires shifted with him.

“No,” he said with a smirk. “I’m done being careful.”

He put his arm around him and hugged her to him. She looked confused at his touch, but she leaned into him.

“I heard you,” he whispered as he kissed the top of her head. She reached around him, awkwardly hugging his waist.

He looked at her, and he saw those eyes again, the eyes that followed him through his fever dreams, that made a whole world for just them.

He leaned into her and kissed her. 

She gasped, but did not pull away. He smiled at her and tucked her hair behind her ear. There was a question in her eyes, but her voice had stopped working.

“I dreamed of you,” he said as he kissed her again and again and again.

**Author's Note:**

> I like this idea of exploring how a modern Jaime would feel about Brienne; in his dream, he gets to be his best self, open and honest, if a little confused, and there for her whenever she needs him.
> 
> Alternatively, he does see her as a crusading knight, able and willing to help anyone who needs it, even while she keeps such a low opinion of herself because of her looks.
> 
> I doubt his Brienne is really like that, but it's probably close. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I'm albatrossisland at tumblr.


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